"Time of death: 1605."
James couldn't move. He couldn't...think. He heard Pote screaming at the doctor to try again, bring her back. He saw Camila out of the corner of his eye, expression not as unaffected as he expected. But all though his eyes were seeing it and hearing it...he wasn't truly processing anything.
They had gotten out. They had gotten away. She had been safe. Except, she wasn't. And he had missed it. How had he missed this?
Then the doctor was in front of him. He was saying something- probably condolences. But James was still hearing the beep of the heart monitor, the echo of Pote's screams. A hand landed on his shoulder and his arm was pressed against the doctor's throat before he could remember where he was. He let go. Gave the man a chance to catch his breath.
"Mr. Valdez, I realize that this is a shock, but is there any family to notify?"
Of course those words would sink through the static. If he had the energy to analyze it he'd probably say it made sense- always get the most important details. Relevant information only, ignore the rest.
He shook his head.
That thought- the idea that she had no one- it hurt. That no one from her past was left. She had people. He knew that. She had Pote and Tony. She had him. The family she chose. But it was different. And suddenly the difference felt like a negative.
The doctor disappeared at some point and was replaced by Camila. She didn't say anything and so he didn't either. It was safer that way- nothing for Camila to manipulate. They had closed the blinds to the room- to clean the body.
He was a sniper, so why did that word suddenly make him want to vomit?
Pote was in a seat behind them, but James hadn't been able to sit- or move- yet. Something in the back of his mind kept whispering that he shouldn't leave her alone- that she still needed him. It didn't make sense but it was what it was.
"She was a strong woman. And a worthy opponent. She shouldn't have gone like this... No elegance, no sophistication, just animalistic brutality." Her hand settled on his upper arm and he had to fight the instinct to shake her off. "I know what she meant to you. I'm sorry."
'I'm sorry'. Two words. Two little words that people expect to mean something. He turned his head to look at the woman beside him. He had worked for her for years. He had lost pieces of his soul for her business. He knew she was cold. He knew she was manipulative. But nothing she had said before had ever made him hate her. 'I'm sorry'?
He knew his face was showing more than he wanted her to see. He knew he'd pay for the disrespect- the disgust he couldn't hide- when this was all over. But in this moment... Teresa was dead. He didn't give a fuck.
All hell was breaking loose.
Camila was standing in the middle of the warehouse. Teresa was by the entrance. Pote was taking out the guys coming around from the back. And James was in the rafters. His sniper rifle was steady and so was his aim. His shots were clean, nearly perfect. Not one bullet wasted.
It was supposed to be clean. They would meet with the Martinez Cartel. The deal would be made between the three parties. Camila took one half of the product, Teresa took the other. They split the costs and Martinez left 10 million cocaine-dusted dollars richer.
But that didn't happen. Camila brought fake money. Martinez started shooting. And Teresa wouldn't give him the shot. He could pick off his guys. But to get Martinez, Teresa had to move... and she wouldn't. She looked up and her eyes found his. But she just stood there acting like a human shield.
Then Camilla's guys swarmed in. Then they were being overrun. Then Teresa was hit. It was a graze- he could tell even from his location. His fist clenched to stop the trembling, but that was all the reaction he allowed. He had to cover Pote. He had to take out the other shooters. He had to clear the area so they could get the fuck out.
So he did.
And Teresa was fine.
If you didn't count the poison the bullet was laced with.
A nurse asked if one of them would like to escort the body to the morgue.
James waited for Pote to step forward. Those two had always been close. But instead the older man waved in his direction. "She'd want you with her." James ignored the tremor in Pote's voice. He ignored the calculated look Camila gave as she shifted her focus from her phone to the situation at hand. He was trying to understand Pote's logic.
It seemed wrong. He had messed up. He had let someone get a shot off. He had missed the initial signs of poison. Teresa's last moments had been agonizing and he hadn't protected her. He hadn't done his job. And now she was dead.
But when the nurse and the tech started wheeling out the gurney he couldn't look away. And when they moved down the hall he followed. James knew the drill: you go with the body to the service elevator. Then the hospital staff get on and you don't. You watch the door close. You stand there while the person you...care about...gets taken to a freezer in a basement until 'arrangements' can be made.
So that's what James waited for. But the nurse motioned for him to get onto the elevator, too. She let him ride to the basement. She showed him to the morgue and let him go in first.
If he were thinking more clearly he'd be questioning this deviation from the norm.
The nurse unzipped the body bag and there she was. Teresa. He didn't notice at first- the fact that her clothes were still on. He didn't see the nurse slip a syringe out of her scrub pocket. But he did see her inject Teresa with something. And then his hand was around the nurse's wrist so tight he knew he would leave a bruise. But he didn't care. Not at that moment. Because she was messing with Teresa and she had no right. She may be dead but she wasn't a doll to be played with.
"It's alright, Mr. Valdez. This is what she wants."
His mind automatically corrected her. 'Wanted' was the word she should have used. Past tense. He pushed the thought aside and responded. "I don't tolerate disrespect. Remember that." Then he slowly released her wrist. He fought the urge to run his hand down his face. She already knew he was upset, there was no point in making it more obvious.
He was just about to turn back towards the door when movement caught his eye. He froze because for a split second his brain was convinced the movement had come from the body bag. Which was ridiculous and the product of not getting enough sleep.
But then it happened again. And this time he was turned enough towards the gurney to see clearly. The bag was open enough that he could see Teresa's right hand. The hand her twitching fingers were attached to.
"I'll leave you for a moment," the nurse said. Then she slipped past him and out into the hall. He didn't watch her leave but he knew she wasn't outside the door.
He made his way back to the gurney.
Then he just stood there.
Waiting.
She wasn't dead.
She was alive. Her eyes were open. She was looking at him. He knew it was possible to fake a death. He knew that doctors and nurses could be bribed or blackmailed into helping. But he hadn't expected Teresa to do it.
She was lying in that damn bag and looking at him with her sad eyes. And he knew she was sorry. He knew she hadn't meant to hurt him. But, fuck. She had died. He had watched her die. And it hadn't even been fucking real?
"You could have told me. Given me a heads up at least." His voice was probably harsher than he wanted it to be. But he was spiraling. She had died but it had been a lie. And now she was back but he hadn't even had time to fully process that she was gone.
"I'm sorry." God, her voice was wrecked. Rough and scratchy like she had laryngitis or something. But he would die happy if it was the last thing he ever heard. Because he had almost never heard it again. But he pushed that away. He didn't want her talking yet. He didn't know what she had been given, so she needed to rest.
James took her hand and held it gently in his. No matter what else happened she had still been injured. She had to be feeling sore. "I assume you have a plan to get out of here." Someone else might have phrased it as a question, but not James. There was only one answer possible so he wasn't surprised when she gave a weak nod. "The nurse has the details?" Another nod.
Her fingers tightened around his.
"I'm okay."
He was glad no one was around because he knew that anyone looking would see how much he fucking loved that woman.
They smuggled her out of the hospital to a helicopter two miles away.
He never left her side. He called Pote on the drive and told him he had left. Pote didn't question it and James didn't offer any extra information.
They had been in the air for almost an hour when they landed. They were in a clearing in the woods. He knew the closest town had to be at least forty-five minutes away from this place. There was a log cabin at the other end of the clearing and James could see lights on inside.
The nurse and the tech from the hospital helped him get Teresa out of the chopper and into wheelchair. Then they got back inside and as soon as he and Teresa had cleared the rotors they took off.
He got them to the cabin and paused. He didn't know what to expect or who. He didn't know the layout of this place or how secure it was. The sniper in him wanted to check it out first. But Teresa needed to rest and she couldn't do that out here. So he opened the door and wheeled her inside.
It ran on solar power- he had seen that from the helicopter. So the government probably didn't know about this place. And if he had to guess there was a well or something to supply water. It was small from what he could see. Two bedrooms and a bath, a small kitchen and a decent sized living area.
He made a mental note to check the place out more thoroughly after Teresa was asleep. So he rolled her towards the bigger of the two bedrooms. It was fully stocked. Clothes, shoes, even pictures- it was all there arranged the way she liked her things. It just let him know-more than he already did- that this had been in the works for a while.
He got her changed and comfortable in the bed before turning to crash on the couch. But her voice stopped him. "You can stay here, if you want." It sounded like a question and a demand and a throwaway comment all at once. And he knew he should keep walking.
But he had never been great at walking away from Teresa Mendoza.
So he stayed.
When a month had passed they brought Pote in.
When five months had passed they took out Camila.
One year after she 'died' Teresa Mendoza stepped back onto the world's stage.
Her hair was shorter but she smiled more.
She had to budget but she didn't have a target on her back.
And every night he held her in his arms.
Every day he loved her like it was her last day.
And every single day he made sure to kiss her at 1605.